


love is an open drawer

by blackbirddan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: 2010 Era (Phandom), Bad 90s music, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, bad dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-29
Updated: 2019-06-29
Packaged: 2020-05-29 18:17:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19405609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackbirddan/pseuds/blackbirddan
Summary: Phil moves into his first apartment.





	love is an open drawer

“Thank fuck for the lift,” groaned Dan, dropping the box he was carrying onto the floor with a thud. Phil straightened from being head-first in another large box and watched Dan lean against the door frame, breathing heavily.

They’d just brought up the last of the boxes, and finally everything was actually in the flat. Phil’s dad had helped them move the last round of boxes from the car into the hallway of the building, and after multiple assurances they could take it from here, had headed home.

The whole process, including a trip into town to buy essentials, had taken all of yesterday and most of today. Dan had arrived a couple of days ago to help with the move, and the three of them had driven back and forth between Phil’s parents’ house and the new flat so many times that Dan had said he was pretty sure he could now drive the route in his sleep. On the third return journey Phil’s dad had commented that he’d have just hired a van if he’d known how much stuff Phil actually had.

But the third and final journey was over, and all of Phil’s ‘crap’ - as Dan had put it - was finally here. 

Dan grabbed the edge of the box he’d just put down and started dragging it across the floor.

“This one’s bathroom stuff,” he called, disappearing backwards into the hallway.

Phil took a moment to take stock of the living room, late afternoon sun streaming in through the windows. Now that his dad had left, he was finally alone in his very own home, for the first time.

 _Well_ , he thought, hearing Dan banging around in the bathroom. _Almost alone_.

He was so glad Dan had come up to help him move. Not only was the extra pair of hands a big help in the last-minute rush, but he was also grateful that Dan would be here for Phil’s first night in the new place. 

Phil had been desperate for his own space for ages, especially whenever Dan visited, but the idea of going to sleep in his own flat, completely alone for the first time in his life, was still a daunting one. And anyway, it just felt right that Dan should be here to share this moment in his life with him.

His parents had seen the flat first, while Phil had been flathunting. He’d liked it immediately despite its small size, loving the modern finishes and the huge windows with their amazing views of the city. He’d been looking through property websites for a few months, but Dan’s imminent move to Manchester had accelerated his search, so while Dan went off to Summer in the City, Phil stayed behind and booked a bunch of viewings. 

Once he’d chosen this place, figuring everything out and actually signing the lease had taken a while, mainly due to the landlord’s concern over his income - a concern Phil shared, in fairness. In the end, his dad had stepped in to put the landlord’s mind at ease, and had paid the deposit for him.

His parents had been relatively lukewarm over the flat he’d chosen, and Phil was pretty sure his mum had preferred a larger, cheaper place they’d looked at. It _had_ been nice enough, and it had a lot more storage, but Phil couldn’t get the city views and the bright living room out of his head, and so he’d chosen this one.

 _It’s quite nice, for a first flat_ , his mum had said.

_Oh, Phil, you’re going to have to be careful with this lino, love, this edge seems a bit loose._

_You’d think they’d have replaced the hallway carpet after the last people moved out._

They meant well, of course, and their concerns were valid, but he wished they could be just a bit less practical and a bit more excited. That was what parents were for, though, he supposed. His mum had definitely been teary-eyed when she’d seen them off that morning, the last of Phil’s belongings gone from the house.

He’d gotten the reaction he wanted once Dan had walked in for the first time, eyes like saucers, letting out an amazed “whoa!” at the view from the lounge. Phil had felt happy and proud as Dan peered around the room, before practically gluing himself to the window to properly take in the view.

Concerns about rent and making sure he remembered to get the phone line connected as soon as possible fell away for a moment as he looked around the living room - _his_ living room - piled with boxes.

Dan appeared in the doorway.

“Did you bring a shower rack, or anything?” he asked.

“Oh,” said Phil, “no. I thought there was one in there.”

“Nope. Just a small shelf thing. It won’t fit all your crap - better put it on the list.”

He turned back into the bathroom to finish unpacking, and Phil added _shower rack_ to the list they were keeping on the counter, _TO BUY_ scrawled across the top in Dan’s messy hand. Frowning, he noticed a few items he hadn’t added.

“Dan?” he called. “Why do I need ten towels?”

“What?” Dan called from the bathroom.

“Why have you put ten towels on the list? Why do I need _ten_?”

Dan padded into the room, looking as confused as Phil felt, and leaned over Phil’s shoulder to look at the list. He tutted.

“TEA towels, you moron,” he said, poking Phil in the back.

“Ohhhh,” said Phil. “It looks more like ten.”

“That’s an A!” said Dan, jabbing a finger at the list. “Why would you need TEN towels specifically?”

“Well yeah, that’s what I was wondering!”

“Anyway, you already have loads of towels. Which is what I was unpacking before you interrupted me.”

“Well, get on with it, then,” said Phil. 

“Yes, master,” said Dan, executing a low bow before heading back to the bathroom. Phil watched him go before looking back at his own box pile.

 _Right, come on Phil_ , he thought to himself. _These boxes won’t unpack themselves._ The voice in his head sounded oddly like his mum. He grabbed the nearest one and opened it to find, to his delight, the kettle. 

“Dan! Do you want tea?”

Several hours and several tea breaks later, most of the boxes were empty, even if the contents weren’t quite in their new homes. 

They decided to leave the remaining few boxes, and the rest of the tidying, for tomorrow, and turned their attention to the food they’d picked up the day before. Dan enthusiastically stomped on the empty boxes littering the lounge to flatten them, while Phil turned on the oven for the sausage rolls and started putting crisps and popcorn out in small bowls. 

It wasn’t really necessary for just the two of them, but Phil wanted to celebrate his first proper night in his new home and make it feel a bit special, so he’d gone for a party food dinner. He was arranging biscuits on a plate when Dan returned from piling crushed cardboard in the corridor.

“Party Rings!” he said, delighted. “I didn’t see you get these.” He crammed one into his mouth. 

“I used to be able to fit my fingers into the hole in these,” he continued around a mouthful of biscuit. “Not any more, though, with my huge, fat hands.”

“Maybe your pinky,” suggested Phil, arranging cocktail sausages on a baking tray. Dan experimentally poked his little finger into a second Party Ring, waving it delightedly at Phil when it fit, before popping it into Phil’s mouth.

“Mum and Dad gave me some champagne,” said Phil once he’d swallowed it, pointing at the fridge.

“Oooh, really?” said Dan. “The good stuff?”

“I dunno. Definitely better than what we bought, though.”

“What, better than our three-ninety-nine Tesco own-brand Cava? Surely not.”

Dan retrieved the bottle from the fridge while Phil put the food in the oven.

“Oooh, wow, Moet. Yeah, definitely nicer than what we bought.”

He started picking at the foil while Phil tried to remember which cupboard he’d put the glasses in. Glasses located, he peered around, heart sinking slightly.

“Uh, Dan?” 

“What?”

“We don’t have any flutes.”

Dan set the bottle down.

“Well, we can drink it out of something else,” he said, joining Phil next to the cabinet. “D’you have wine glasses?”

“Nope. Don’t drink much wine. I just have pint glasses,” he said, picking one up. Dan took it out of his hand.

“Phil. We are not drinking Moet out of pint glasses. Have some class.” 

“Well, I don’t have anything else. Except mugs.”

“I know you bloody have mugs. You have about fifty. I carried them up here from the car.”

“I don’t have _fifty_ ,” said Phil, as Dan shifted glasses around, looking for something.

“Oooh!” he said, finding something at the back. “These’ll do.”

“Shot glasses?” said Phil incredulously, looking at the items in Dan’s hand. “You can’t drink champagne out of shot glasses, Dan.”

“Well, it’s better than pint glasses,” said Dan. “It’ll go flat in those.”

“Okay, fine.”

Dan worked on the cork, letting out an exuberant “woo!” at the pop, and Phil’s chest swelled with warmth. With Dan here, it felt like a real home, and a proper celebration, even if they were just eating cheap sausage rolls and were surrounded by piles of boxes and crumpled up packing paper. 

“Okay,” said Dan, lining up the shot glasses. “Here we go.”

“It’s gonna overflow.”

“No, it isn’t,” said Dan. He poured the first glass and watched as the foam immediately fizzed over the rim and onto the counter. 

“Oh.”

Phil snorted. 

“Shut up. Get a cloth or something.”

He continued pouring, with a slightly more delicate hand, until both shot glasses were full. Dan passed a glass to Phil; the bottom was still wet and champagne dripped down his hand. He wiped it on his shirt.

“Well,” said Dan, lifting his shot glass as though it were fine crystal, pinky extended. “Congratulations, Phil, on your first apartment. And commiserations that I’m going to be here all the time until you’re sick of the sight of me.”

“Aw,” said Phil. “I’d never be sick of the sight of you.”

“You say that now,” said Dan. “You’ll change your mind when I’ve eaten all your biscuits.”

“Oh, if it’s my biscuits, then yeah. Definite deal-breaker. Anyway - cheers.”

“Cheers.”

They clinked their shot glasses together, and Phil took a sip, the sharp bubbles bursting over his tongue. It tasted like celebration. He glanced up to see Dan down his in a single motion.

“Dan!” he said, laughing. “You’re not supposed to down champagne.”

“It’s in a shot glass,” shrugged Dan, already pouring himself another. “Cheers!” 

He downed the second before coughing.

“Okay,” he said, eyes watering slightly. “Maybe you’re not supposed to down champagne.”

He refilled both their glasses again. Phil took a sip of his while Dan peered into the oven.

“It smells so good,” he said. “Wait, did you set a timer?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot,” said Phil. “Though I actually don’t know how to set the timer on this oven yet.”

“You could have used your phone,” Dan observed truthfully. “We’ll just have to keep looking at them and make sure they don’t go black, I guess,” he said, opening the oven door a crack to peer in and recoiling slightly at the vent of heat. “Bit longer, I think.”

“We need some music,” said Phil, looking around for his phone. “Any requests?”

“No fucking JLS,” said Dan. “Otherwise whatever.”

Phil chose a playlist. His portable speakers were still in a box somewhere, so he put the phone in a pint glass to amplify the sound, a trick he’d learned from Dan’s festival escapades.

Dan, having just poured his fourth shot of champagne, was bopping around the kitchen to the tinny music. Phil bumped him aside with his hip to reach their shopping list.

“I’m gonna put flutes on here,” he said.

“Gonna be drinking a lot of champagne, are we?” said Dan.

Phil smiled inwardly at the _we_ and shrugged.

“We might. New Year, or birthdays, or whatever.”

“Me starting uni!”

“Exactly!”

“Woo!”

Dan was flushed pink and grinning as he reached forward to clink his shot glass against Phil’s again, and Phil moved closer to him.

“We should dance!”

“Yes!” said Dan. “Oh, shit, no, wait! The food!”

Phil turned to the oven with a quiet _oh, fuck_ and yanked it open. To his relief, neither the sausages or sausage rolls seemed to be charred. He looked around for - 

Oh, fuck.

“Add oven gloves to the list,” he called to Dan as he dashed to his bedroom, Dan cackling behind him.

Minutes later the snacks were on a rack, cooling. Phil tossed aside the t-shirt he’d used to remove the baking tray from the oven; it landed in a small pool of champagne. 

“Ah,” Phil said sharply, seeing Dan going in for a cocktail sausage. “They’re just out the oven. They’ll be like lava inside.”

“But I’m hungry,” whined Dan. “And they look so good. Well, no, they look like shit, but they always taste good.”

“Eat the crisps,” said Phil. “Or burn your tongue into a charred stub, if you prefer.”

“Gross,” said Dan, stuffing crisps in his mouth.

They shuffled through the tracks on Phil’s phone until Dan could wait no longer and snaffled his first sausage from the tray, yelping when he bit into its boiling centre. 

“I told you!” crowed Phil, as Dan gulped water to sooth his scalded tongue. Mouth full of water, cheeks bulged like a hamster, Dan scowled at him, and Phil’s grin widened. Dan was just so cute sometimes. 

The snacks had cooled enough for Phil to transfer them to a plate, setting them out alongside the crisps.

“Wow, I’m so impressed by the variety of your party food, Phil,” said Dan. “Sausages, and sausage rolls.”

“Hey, you wanted sausage rolls.”

“Um, yeah - sausage rolls are amazing.”

“Then what’s the problem, Howell?” said Phil, grinning.

“We just need some different stuff next time,” said Dan. “Like mini pizzas. Or, oooh. Chicken tenders.”

“Or spring rolls.”

“Eurgh, no, they’re awful. They taste of nothing.”

“The Marks and Spencers ones are nice,” said Phil.

“Oh, sorry, rich kid,” said Dan. “Some of us shop at Sainsbury’s, you know.”

“We could get party food from Lidl for all I care,” said Phil.

“Phil,” said Dan, refilling their shot glasses. “Please. I have some standards. And Lidl sausage rolls are definitely below them.”

“Yeah, true,” said Phil, taking a hearty gulp of his champagne. “Lidl ones would definitely have, like, beaks in them or something.”

“Beaks?” said Dan, cracking up. “What? They’re made from pigs, you buffoon, why would they have beaks in them?”

Phil gasped for breath, doubled over from laughter.

“Oh yeah,” he said. “I was thinking of chickens, or something. It’s ‘cause you said chicken tenders!”

“Beaks! You twat,” said Dan, overtaken by laughter. “Phil thinks pigs have beaks. I’m tweeting that.”

“Noooo!” said Phil, attempting to wrestle Dan’s phone out of his hand. “I don’t think pigs have beaks!”

Despite Phil’s grip on his arms, Dan got as far as opening the app and typing rapidly.

_.@amazingphil thinks pigs have beaks #housewarminggonewrong_

“Dan! Noooooo,” whined Phil, hardly able to speak from laughter, hands closed around Dan’s wrists.

“What’s my silence worth?” said Dan.

“Ummm … I’ll make you breakfast tomorrow.”

Dan rolled his eyes.

“Wait, wait - after we stay in bed until at least noon.” He waggled his eyebrows in what he hoped was an alluring manner.

Dan’s eyebrows rose in response as he barked out a loud laugh.

“Wow, okay! Sold,” said Dan, closing the app and pocketing his phone. “You win. Though that’ll be making me lunch, really. So you still owe me breakfast.”

“We can have breakfast for lunch,” said Phil, tugging on Dan’s wrists to pull him closer. 

“Or dinner for breakfast,” said Dan, glancing at the party food.

“Yep,” said Phil. “Ooooor … dinner for breakfast in bed.”

“Now you’re talking.”

“Anyway. Dance with me!” said Phil. “Come on, there’s more space in the living room.”

“Yeah, like two inches more,” said Dan.

They brought the plates of food, their drinks and Phil’s phone in its pint glass into the living room, and Dan’s mouth formed an o as the track changed. 

“I can’t believe you have all this shit saved to your phone, you loser,” he said, even as he started dancing to it. Phil turned the volume up.

“It’s good party music!” he said, bumping Dan’s hip with his own. 

“We are the worst dancers,” yelled Dan above the music, taking Phil’s hands in his. 

“The absolute worst,” agreed Phil.

Despite the lack of space in Phil’s living room, their dancing became increasingly enthusiastic, moving from simply bopping around with joined hands to twirls, line dancing, an attempt at ballroom and, despite Dan’s complaints, the Macarena. Dan kept up a relentless tirade of mocking at Phil’s choice of party music, even as he danced and sang along to every track.

“Talk about Year Seven end of term party vibes,” said Dan, twirling Phil awkwardly under his arm. For his part, Phil was grateful for the _Ultimate Party Animal_ playlist he’d saved to his phone for a party once at uni - everyone always gave him a hard time over it, but it never failed to get everyone dancing. In-between songs, they grabbed handfuls of crisps and sausages, and took huge sips of their rapidly warming champagne.

With how small the room was, and the amount of stuff still strewn on the floor, it was almost inevitable that after a particularly enthusiastic swing from Phil, Dan’s shin collided hard with the coffee table. He let out a piercing screech and, after a few moments of dramatic hopping, collapsed slowly to the floor.

“Are you alright?” laughed Phil.

“Nooooo,” moaned Dan, hands wrapped around his shin. “It’ll have to come off.”

“Your dancing career is over,” said Phil, turning the volume down slightly. It was fully dark now, and while it wasn’t that late, he didn’t want to become That Loud Arsehole Neighbour on his very first night. 

“My dreams are dead,” said Dan, starfishing across the floor. Phil, still slightly breathless from the dancing, joined him, sprawling across his stomach.

“Ow,” said Dan. 

“Ow,” mocked Phil. “That didn’t hurt.”

“It did. You weigh a ton.”

“Not as much as you.”

“Ouch, Phil. Now that did hurt.”

“Sorry,” said Phil, nuzzling his face into Dan’s stomach. Dan was silent for a moment, looking up at the ceiling, catching his breath.

“This place is so cool,” he said. 

“It’s nothing special, really,” said Phil. “Plus it’s tiny.”

“Well, yeah, it’s tiny. But I love it. And that view! Must be costing you a fortune.”

“Nah, I got a good deal, I told you,” said Phil. He could feel the scepticism in Dan’s silence, and continued. 

“I have a plan, anyway, for the future.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah - it might mean a few years of living on toast and Super Noodles, but then I thought maybe this rich, high-flying lawyer I know could bankroll my YouTube career.”

“Oi,” said Dan, chuckling, pushing lightly at him. “I’m not being your sugar daddy.”

“Can you even have a sugar daddy who’s younger than you?” said Phil.

“I mean, I don’t see why not. Think about it - you’re old, and tired, and broke; you find some young, rich kid who wants to learn some things, and - ”

“Dan!”

“It was your idea!”

“Well, when you’re a partner in some fancy law firm, please remember old Philly who fed you sausage rolls when you were a poor student.”

“Um, I think I’ll remember,” said Dan, running his fingers briefly through Phil’s hair. Phil’s eyes closed at the sensation, and he would have been more than happy for Dan to continue for - oh, several hours, at least.

“God, it wounds so weird when you say it like that,” Dan continued. “Can you really imagine me being a lawyer?”

“I think you’ll be a good lawyer,” said Phil, laying his head back on Dan’s tummy.

“Please,” said Dan. Phil could hear his voice rumbling in his chest under where his ear rested. “Can you actually see me in a courtroom?”

Phil sat up to meet his eyes.

“You’d look good in the robes,” he said.

Dan looked up at him, his eyebrows a straight line.

“Well, okay, I mean - there are loads of lawyers who don’t go to court,” Phil continued. “You’d be good at helping people, like - people getting divorces, or something.”

“Oh, that’s cheerful,” said Dan. “Maybe I could follow that up by, I don’t know, writing some wills.”

“Or people buying a house,” continued Phil. “That’s always quite happy. Or, like, copyrights for weird inventions.”

“Or I could become an ambulance chaser,” said Dan. “Good money in that.”

“Maybe not,” said Phil.

“No? You could edit my dramatic ads.”

“I don’t think it’s really your thing,” chuckled Phil. “Far too much time outside. And a lot of running.”

“Good point,” said Dan. His voice was quiet when he spoke again.

“I doubt there are many lawyers who also make YouTube videos,” he said, plucking at the rug.

“Maybe you’ll be the first,” said Phil.

Dan smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Phil watched him for a moment, wanting to chase the worry he could still see in his expression away. 

“Come on,” he said, scrambling to his feet. “Shall we open the second bottle?”

He offered a hand to Dan and pulled him to his feet and into a hug, which Dan returned. They swayed on the spot for a moment.

“Where’s my drink?” said Dan, his voice muffled in Phil’s hair.

“Alright, alright,” said Phil, disengaging and heading to the kitchen.

He returned with the bottle of Cava they’d bought and poured two more shots, sloshing plenty onto the glass table, his already ropey pouring skills further diminished by the half bottle he’d already had. Dan took his glass while Phil mopped up the wetness with the same t-shirt he’d used as an oven glove earlier.

When he was done, he looked up to see Dan standing in front of the window, gazing out over the twinkling lights of the city. He sipped his own drink before padding over to stand behind him, meeting his gaze in the window’s reflection.

Phil rested his chin on Dan’s shoulder, noting that he had to go ever so slightly up on his tiptoes to do so. As it always did, something seemed to squeeze his heart at the realisation that Dan had grown since they had met, and he pulled him closer with his free arm.

He watched Dan’s reflection, taking in the peaceful expression on his beautiful face. It was still always a joy to him to see Dan completely relaxed and happy, and he squeezed him tighter.

“I can’t get over this view,” said Dan. “It’s kind of like living in a movie.”

“Mmm,” said Phil. He was starting to feel sleepy, between the champagne, the dancing, hauling boxes all day and now the warmth of Dan’s body against his. He turned his face into the curve of Dan’s neck and breathed deep, feeling the calm of _home_ settle over him for the first time since he’d chosen this place. He pressed a light kiss to Dan’s shoulder.

“It’s gonna be so great when you’re here all the time,” he said, his voice rough, already feeling a pang about Dan going home in a few days. When he did, Phil would be entirely alone in the flat for the first time. 

“I’m glad you’re here for my first night,” he continued.

“Yeah,” said Dan. “Me too.” The hand that wasn’t holding his shot glass came to rest on top of Phil’s. "It’ll be weird being in halls when you’re so nearby.”

“Yeah, but how else will you get the ultimate uni lad experience?”

“Oh, yeah,” said Dan, turning to face him. “Because I’m such a uni lad. Can’t wait for all the lads’ nights out and sharing a bathroom with people who probably pee in the sink and people wanting me to - ”

Phil kissed him.

“Don’t worry,” he said, pulling back slightly. “It’ll be fun, and you’ll meet people you like. And I’ll always be here.”

Dan draped his arms loosely over Phil’s shoulders, his eyes heavy-lidded.

“Yeah,” he sighed. “I know. I’m sure it’ll be great.” 

“Wanna head to bed?” said Phil, feeling heavy and cosy, and wanting to change the subject. While Dan’s impending time at uni was an important topic, discussing it wasn’t what he wanted to be doing right now.

“D’we need to clear up?” said Dan, looking at the plates of food.

“Nah. Let’s leave it ‘til tomorrow.” 

“Ooh, that’s my motto,” said Dan. “K, let’s go.”

Phil reluctantly stepped out of his embrace as they gathered their phones and shut off the music and lights. 

He tangled his fingers with Dan’s outside the bedroom. Dan turned to face him, smirking, and as Phil backed him into the room, he glanced past him at the bed before stopping short.

“Noooo,” said Phil, letting his head drop onto Dan’s shoulder. “We haven’t made up the bed yet.”

Dan turned on the light and looked at the folded bedding piled on the mattress.

“I really cannot be arsed,” he whined. “Can’t we just sleep under the duvet?”

“Without the cover?”

“It’s only one night. Do you really want to put the cover on now?”

“Nah,” said Phil. “That’s a problem for tomorrow us. We’d better put the sheet on, though.”

“ _Phiiiiiiil._ ”

“It’ll just take a sec. I’ll do it while you get ready for bed, if you want.”

“No, it’s fine,” grumbled Dan, pulling the sheet from the pile of bedding and shaking it out. “Grab the other end, bitch.”

They manoeveured the sheet onto Phil’s bed with a lot more huffing and effort than was necessary. Dan sprawled on his belly across the bed to fit the far corner of the sheet, and didn’t move once he was done.

“Dan, get off,” said Phil, poking his leg. “We’re almost done.”

“So sleepy,” said Dan, voice muffled in the sheet.

“Yeah, well,” said Phil, now pulling on his leg. “Go change or whatever.”

Dan grumbled again but shifted, his movements slow, sliding off the bed. The corner of the sheet he’d fitted pinged off the edge of the mattress. 

“Fuck!” said Dan, laughing. “Noooooo!”

“Sssh,” giggled Phil. “It’s late.”

“Ugh,” said Dan, crawling back to the corner to re-fit the sheet.

Once it was secure, he disappeared to the bathroom to brush his teeth, and re-appeared minutes later, t-shirt off and draped over his shoulder.

Phil headed to the bathroom to brush his own teeth, the champagne aftertaste sour on his tongue. He looked at himself in the mirror around his mouthful of toothpaste, something pleasing settling in his gut about getting ready for bed in his own home.

Freshened up, he headed back into the bedroom to see Dan already in bed under the coverless duvet, scrolling through his phone. Phil spotted Dan’s jeans and t-shirt folded on top of his bag, and threw his own on the floor next to them. 

Phil slid into bed and yawned expansively, stretching his arms over his head before dropping one across Dan’s shoulders. Dan snorted.

“Smooth, Lester,” he said, his voice low and slurred.

“Sleepy?” said Phil, looking at Dan’s profile lit by the glow of his phone.

“Mmm,” said Dan noncommittally, shutting off the screen and meeting his eyes. “I mean, I’m not, like, passing out tired.”

“Me neither,” said Phil, and pulled him closer.

Phil was aware of two things when he first woke up. One, that he was far too warm, and two, that the sheet they’d fitted the night before - apparently not very well - had pinged off the mattress again in the night and was bunched up under his leg.

The warmth was due to the fact that Dan’s bare back was pressed against his, and he shifted away slightly, his damp back immediately feeling cooler. The sun had been up for several hours already, and he sat up, leaning over Dan to open the window over the bed. Dan groaned as he woke, and Phil collapsed back down beside him.

“Mmmm,” said Dan, pushing his rumpled hair out of his face. “Morning.” 

“Morning,” said Phil, leaning in for a kiss. They were both in desperate need of a shower, and as Phil stretched he felt the ache already settling in from the previous day of carrying boxes, unpacking, dancing, everything they’d gotten up to later...

Feeling tacky and still too warm, he got out of bed and stood on Dan’s discarded boxers, before staggering into the bathroom, staring dumbly at the shower controls for several minutes as he realised he’d never used it before. Eventually he figured out the temperature controls, and sighed in pleasure as the water hit his sticky body.

Phil emerged from the bathroom to find Dan in the kitchen in his boxers, munching on one of the cold sausage rolls.

“Don’t eat those, Dan,” he said, filling the kettle.

“They’re really nice cold!”

“Yeah, but they’ve been out on the counter all night! You’re gonna get food poisoning.”

Dan looked at the half-eaten roll in his hand.

“...What, really?”

“I dunno. I wouldn’t risk it, though. My mum always says not to eat stuff that hasn’t been in the fridge.”

“Yeah, but they were cold when we bought them,” said Dan. “And they said ready to eat. I’m sure it’s fine.” He crammed the remaining half of the sausage roll in his mouth.

“I thought we were having breakfast in bed?” said Phil.

“You were the one who ran off to have a shower,” said Dan. “I’m starving.”

“I was gross,” said Phil. “I was gonna come back.”

“Still want to?” said Dan.

“Yeah,” said Phil. “But you’d better shower first.”

“Ugh, fine,” said Dan, grabbing another roll and heading for the bathroom. While he was gone, Phil replaced the sheet on the bed and made them coffee and two bowls of cereal. Dan emerged in a towel just as he was done. 

“Is this our breakfast in bed?” he said.

“Yep,” said Phil, picking up his bowl and mug. “After you.”

They crawled back into bed and ate their cereal, watching videos on Phil’s laptop, before placing the empty cups and bowls on the floor. The laptop was quickly forgotten.

When they got up for a second time, they dressed and looked around at the carnage in the living room.

“What d’you wanna do today?” said Dan.

“I guess we should finish the last boxes,” said Phil. “And then maybe we should do a food shop.”

“Or McDonalds?” said Dan hopefully.

“Or McDonalds,” agreed Phil. “But we still need some other bits. We’re nearly out of milk.”

“What’s this?” said Dan, peeling open the nearest box. “Oh. Clothes and stuff?”

“Bedroom,” said Phil. They dragged the box through and hauled everything out and onto the floor, before attempting to find homes for it all. Most of Phil’s drawers had already been filled the day before, and even cramming them as full as they could, a small pile of items still sat in the middle of the floor.

“Oh, what about this drawer?” said Dan, pulling one open.

“No, not there,” said Phil. “There’s still space at the top of the wardrobe.”

“But this one’s empty.”

“Yeah, I know, but I don’t want to put stuff in it because I’ll just have to empty it again.”

“What? Why?”

“It’s for you.”

Dan looked at the empty drawer.

“For me?”

“Yeah, for like, when you stay. I know you’ll be in halls, but I thought - “ he tailed off, wondering if he’d overstepped some sort of line, when he felt Dan’s arms snake around his waist. 

“Aww, Phil,” said Dan, squeezing him. “Thank you. I’ll definitely leave loads of my shit here.”

“Good, I’m getting sick of you stealing all my clothes,” said Phil, leaning into the hug.

“Now you can steal _my_ clothes,” said Dan, still looking at the open drawer.

“Deal,” said Phil, and kissed Dan’s head. “Ugh, I’m so tired. Shall we just do the rest of this later?”

“Another of my mottoes!” said Dan. “Come on. I think there are biscuits left. And we deserve a break.”

He took Phil’s hand and tugged him towards the doorway. Grinning, Phil followed him, closing the empty drawer with his foot as he passed.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on tumblr [here](https://blackbirddan.tumblr.com/post/185931362766/fic-love-is-an-open-drawer)!
> 
> Enjoy Phil's party playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/11174444468/playlist/6l4fQ7XcfVdl12nYqoiTng?si=WB9_Dhs_To2Isfhiu0QqMw). ;)


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